Hell is for children.

This is my favorite weather for walking out in the parks. Its dreary and the gray of the sky only serves to make the other colors darker, more intense. I saw my first bluebonnet, hidden almost completely beneath the miniature sunflowers (which still manage a good 4 feet of height) along the bayou’s walking track. I reached down to pick it up only to have the man on the ridding mower fuss at me, threatening to call the police as he mowed over the spot where it had been.

Indeed.

But I could not allow the season’s first bluebonnet to be shredded by his hulking, clattering, beast of a machine, now could I?

At least now it can live forever, if only as a dry, flattened shell of what it might have achieved.